September 8, 2016

I want to sit with my pain, period.  Without the goal of happiness, but
with the goal of living in my reality.  Of actually existing, really, and not just in
theory.  When happiness comes, I want to welcome it, too.  But I am wondering why
did we decide that it is good and Ok to be happy, but not hurting and sad? Why
did we decide it is better to be only partly alive?  Why
did we decide to deny ourselves, therefore denying others the presence of ourselves in pain? This seems so tragic.  Why
is it still so hard for me to allow myself to be all the way alive…And others,
too?  Why would I benefit from this?  Or who
benefits from this…this deadness to our dark parts?
Speaking of forbidden feelings. These ideas about unspoken rules and norms about
emotions make me want to throw a tantrum.  Tantrum (noun): an uncontrolled outburst of anger and frustration.  I
imagine that would feel really good. You know?  But I do not have a tantrum. Instead I write about it. I write about the part of me that I am denying. Right
now.  Because I might be an expert at this.  I might not know what to do with
it. With her
because she is me.
(except I do actually let myself lose my shit sometimes, and I think that’s at least a start)